Hurricane
by invigorate
Summary: Compelled by his trickster tactics, Anja realized that a man who once rejoices in darkness, seldom returns to the light, thus, she raised her eyes to look back at those bright green pools of sorrow. "You won't be getting away from me easily, god of lies."
1. Prologue

_**Hurricane**_

_Prologue_

The power. Such a lovely sensation if brought, such a doom it could become. He had been rendered useless by the lack of it and by the need to find it; thrown into an insulting abyss fighting to go back in time. The regret, it was held within him, and the anger remained. He couldn't understand, rather he didn't want to understand; answers floating right before his eyes. He had fallen. He was done for. What he had fought for the hardest, was now forever out of his reach, redemption held far too highly for what he now deserved.

He had been falling for so long, floating, unable to control his path, coming in and out of consciousness. As gravity pulled him, his speed increased. Still conscious and very much aware of what surrounded him, his arms were placed in front of his face, trying to shield it from the strong wind. He felt himself become engulfed by a cold liquid which he assumed to be water, his fall causing massive amount of it to fly upwards. As he was taken over and pulled even deeper into the vast mass, his sorcery immediately told him where he was. Weakness overtook him, but his sense of survival triggered what little magical strength he had left and as he was tossed around by waves, he closed his eyes and focused on disappearing.

Probably almost a whole hour had gone by since he first set his foot on soft dark sand, and still, he could not bring himself to get up from his lying position, catching his breath, thinking. He was not one of feelings. True enough, he had felt strong feelings during the recent events, and still, they did not compare to how strong the confusion and the dishonor he felt at the moment.

He found hard to believe it, to believe it all, but most of all, he found it hard to understand why he couldn't regret what had happened. Not only was he the god of mischief, he was held as no ignorant. Regardless, he thought himself ignorant as he accepted what he had done. He had done wrong, but the only wrong done had been accomplished by not succeeding.

He felt offended, hurt and alone. His doom would not be his emotional instability which kept him from wanting to move or get up as he remained while grasping his upper left arm with his right hand. His doom was brought by his physical damage, though as a god he would heal fast, he was very much wounded and not yet ready for anything which might come.

And, oh, did someone come.

Days had gone by, but he did not heal, he had no opportunity to do so. Strange creatures had greeted him, but not in a kind way but in a violent one. He gritted his teeth but did not move, being already aware of the presence of others. He could feel his end coming, and he found it hard to believe that it would have to finish that way. Though he would not admit it, the hate and anger within him was as of late towards not his 'family' but towards himself.

But after the torture, the darkness and the forlornness had washed over the prince and once again brought that feeling of loss of purpose, an unexpected proposal came, not by his capturers but by a voice darker than Death itself. Loki could not escape it, after all, he had _begged_ for an end to the pain to a point where he offered his abilities.

His request had been heard and accepted.


	2. Chapter 1

**Hurricane**

_Chapter One_

The room reeked of cigarette smoke and of alcohol been thrown everywhere, but it was a smell which seemed to complement her mood, not ruin it. Bringing her own lit cigarette to her mouth, a short girl in no more than her twenties sat in front of the bartender in a crowded and very loud bar in Singapore. Her eyes were staring directly at the mobile phone held between her fingers. A sigh escaped her lips as she tore her gaze from the small piece of technology. The text she had received hours ago still lingering opened on its screen. Long fingers massaged softly her heavily make-up covered eyes as she took another breath and turned around on her seat to look at her surroundings.

'_She will always be with us. She wouldn't have wanted for you to grieve this much. Be good, yes?'_

People dancing, drinking, touching. While normally she found herself able to blend in perfectly with that type of crowd, she sat there as if she weren't even there, as if she was sitting there but slowly disappearing, fading away, and for a few seconds, she truly wished that were true. The clothes she wore could portray nothing but that she was some sort of hardcore partying girl with a lot of money; couldn't be more specific then.

Standing up and drinking the last bit of her drink, she ventured to the back of the famous bar towards the restroom, waving at people as she passed, smiling at others, half-bowing as she was complimented by others who knew who she was. She could act indeed, after all, that's how she got so rich, but most of all, she could lie.

Surprisingly enough, the usually nastiest place of a public establishment was in this case extremely presentable. Keeping the dim light the whole place held, but changing the contaminated smell to a softer flowery like one, the restroom greeted Anja as a perfect getaway of the overwhelming sensation she was getting.

Supporting herself on the long, dark pink, marble sink, she looked up at herself on the mirror. Messy, curly brown hair, thick black eyeliner and long eyelashes enhanced by mascara. Was that her? Was this how she was meant to look? Looking down at her attire, she found herself not as repulsed as she had felt at times: plain dark skinny jeans, an incredibly loose, creamy tank-top showing more cleavage than her mother would have felt comfortable having her wear. She had been through a lot throughout her years, but she found a need to play her character well.

She half snorted as she thought "_At least I'm wearing a scarf over it, right, mama?_" Oh, she was not helping herself. Running her hand over her hair, she took another deep breath and threw her almost burnt cigarette on an ashtray nearby, only to light another right afterwards.

"_Who the fuck am I?_" She thought as she once again stepped into the crowd and placed a bright smile. Those who saw her wouldn't doubt that she was happy. They either assumed she had things on her mind or was growing too fond of her fame as she did not stop to have a proper conversation with her "fans" as she usually did. Either way, there were bigger secrets to hide from public.

She crossed the street and walked down the empty city. "_Two more blocks and I'm running, I swear._" She remembered when she would be so scared to walk alone at night, as things began changing, as the world became more and more corrupted, but by now, she would not worry about her safety if she were to be assaulted, but she worried about the regret she would feel afterwards if she had to hurt anybody to stay safe.

It would be a lie if she were to say she didn't expect someone to come behind her and speak to her in their foreign language, but nothing happened. She was greeted by a smiling, short and kind looking man at the entrance of her hotel and proceeded inside. The lobby was practically empty. Considering it was almost four in the morning, no questions rose.

Oliver, her manager, opened the bedroom door with force and with an incredibly worried look upon his face. As soon as he was half pushed back by the girl who quickly walked past him and into the room, his face became one filled with anger.

"Really? Honestly?" Anja was already taking off her scarf and ready to lift her shirt over her head as she turned to him with a nonchalant yet almost annoyed look on her face, as if saying 'what did you expect?'

Oliver threw angrily on the desk next to him the papers he had on his hand and rolled his eyes as he shook his head. "Why can't you instead of pulling stunts like this just talk to somebody?"

She knew well that he was truly angered because of how loud his voice was at the moment, but she knew better than to jump to conclusions and just attack. She knew he was worried. After all she had left the day before without saying anything. Sorry she felt, but the remorse she felt only made her want to maintain her quiet façade.

Already inside the white bathroom, but keeping the door opened to not shut him off too rudely, Anja took a rubber band and put her hair in a high pony tail. She splashed water all over her face after getting rid of all of her make-up and stood there wearing only her bra and her pants. She seemed unmoved, like she wasn't even listening to what he was asking.

Oliver knew that talking wouldn't help much. It truly amused her how she could be so stubborn when helping others and forcing them to oblige with whatever advice she had given them. True enough, they certainly did work, but what amused him the most was how stubborn she could be to not listen to anything she did not feel like listening, regardless of if it would or would not help her.

She had always seen too mature for her age, in an uncommon way, as if she had lived for hundreds of years and knew what to expect of any situation. If only he had known.

Oliver rubbed his eyes in a frustrated manner as he leaned on the bathroom doorframe. "Anja" he started, "I know it's hard. You know better than anyone that I do actually understand what you're going through, but it's been months, baby – months. You need to start living again." Oh, boy, how the girl wanted to laugh, to at least chuckle. A bitter smile was her only reply.

Turning the lights off and walking past him, she muttered a low "I'm aware, Ollie".

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

All anger which previously brought him planning morphed as a new plan began to formulate.

If he could not have the pride of his own fraternal figure, he would get his own pride by becoming the owner of everything. His brother: he would see, he would understand his pain, such inferiority. Though now he had no other choice but to follow this path, he was keen on doing it for his own desires, masking the real reason behind.

He had time to spare. After all, he had made major advancements; he knew already which realm to take.

Perhaps, the Vanir, gods and goddesses of wisdom, capable of foretelling the future, perhaps they could help. Thin lips pursed together became a wild smile, he wondered if he still knew as much as this world as he did when he was little and been taught about the realms and the power he hoped one day he could possess. When he still believed he had an _opportunity _to become a proper king.

Vanaheimr: the world of the Vanir. He would certainly be amused there.

Anticipation was overcoming him, taking over his whole body. How he first came up with his plan, he had no idea, absolutely no idea; he just knew it was brilliant. Though he was unaware of how much time he had spent in that realm, he was not worried, he knew he had time. He had taken his time preparing his plan, getting his resources, talking to his _sources_. Time was the least important of the worries that troubled him. A sly smirk adorning his face almost at all times, the god of Mischief sat in an old temple where the gods of Vanaheimr had allowed him to regain strength and practice all needed sorcery and spells he needed to return to his _homeland_. Fooled by the god of Lies, they were oblivious to the damnation they had brought upon the realm of Midgard.

Pale hands were placed upon symbols drawn on the floor. Sitting steadily, Loki Odinson smirked once again before muttering the spell that he had gathered so much strength for. Bright green swirls of light surrounded him and floated calmly and steadily. As his incantation came to an end a short laugh escaped his lips. Feeling the swirls of light become violent and drown him into their abyss and into the realm he was ready to take for him, the white male was completely engulfed by green energy after a few seconds, and soon after, he banished, destruction trailing right behind him.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"…_The excitement of the singer-everyone's-currently-talking-about's upcoming show has been diminished by the news that the singer Anja has been spotted all over Asia in many different bars- the surprising part being: she is not even partying! What could be troubling __**so much**__ the gorgeous actress, slash, singer to not even get…"_

"J.A.R.V.I.S. shut that woman up if you'd please." A tall redhead shook her head with frustration as she let out an even more frustrated sigh. Leaning over the table to pick up all types of papers that were just scattered around, she turned to look at the multi-millionaire genius the world now knew as the man who created and became Iron Man. An 'innocent' look from the man was all she received as he manually turned the TV's volume back up.

Startled by the sudden noise, Pepper Potts turned desperate at the man and gave a cold glare.

"Hey! What can I say? She's cute, I wanna know more about why the poor creature is so upset. Do you think she's even legal? Mh, I'm sure it wouldn't matter much though. Think someone'd press charges against me? Again? Nah, you're right, that look you're giving at me tells me my theory and expectations of holding a perfectly healthy short-term relationship with that-" he paused, "- young woman and her… attributes will be more than fulfilling. So, when can we bring her over?"

"Tony, please, just, please. For once, can you, _please_ focus on what we have to do? We _need_ all this paperwork signed by this afternoon, and you haven't even read it. It _requires___your signature. Please?"

The Iron Man stood up and placed his hands on her shoulders, giving a reassuring smile she just couldn't bring herself to buy. "Pepper, Pepp. Peppie. You can count on me-" his suddenly serious face changed to a twitching of his mouth into a smile, "-of course, right after I finish watching this!"

Hurrying back to his seat, he turned the volume even higher and smirked a little as he heard his lovely redhead walk out and slam the door behind her. He was definitively going to have to buy her something now… J.A.R.V.I.S. would remind him surely, nothing to worry about. Nothing. At. All.

"…_So! Anja! You act and you sing, and I'm sure we ALL know about that..." _Was she attractive, oh, man, far beyond that, but Tony agreed her voice was more than annoying, especially how she… stressed her words and turned smugly at the camera. Well, there's always sadomasochism as an excuse to cover her mouth with something, right?

"…_from MIT, right? We hear you've even finished your master's degree and…" _Smoothly cutting her off, the so called artist gave a quick answer about how she had indeed studied there and had a lot of fun and loved everything about it and quickly moved away excusing herself. Secretive much? Mh, Tony would definitively have to look into this young girl record. _'Either she's lying about it or she's hiding something_'

Well, he had spare time, right? Well, he was sure he could get J.A.R.V.I.S. to do something about that paperwork, right?

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

She was used to lying. She hated it, but she needed to lie, thus, she was used to it. The short girl stood on her tip toes as she placed her last bag on the back of van that would drive her home. Back in California, while it usually made her happy, she found herself still not able to enjoy anything. Not only had she just suffered through an almost break out of information on national TV about her studies and was sure to receive more questions concerning that matter but she also was dealing with the fact that she was back home. After months of hiding in any corner of the world where she could find alcohol, smoke, and focus on other things to not loose whatever fame she had gained throughout the years, and throw tantrums whenever she felt the need to without it becoming a scandal, she was back home. Back in California, but without the person she cherished the most. That person was gone. She was just gone.

Putting her sunglasses back on, trying to cover at least a bit of the sour expression on her face, she shut the back of the van and got inside the car. As usual, she continued to think about her mother's last words and turned the stereo on as loud as she could without bothering Oliver, and drowned on her seat all the way back home.

She could sense something coming; something she couldn't quite place. With all her might, she hoped it was not what her mother had foretold would happen. What scared her the most not what she had been told, but the fact that while normally her mother's visions were extremely vague, maybe a sensation or two, a feeling, a quick picture on her mind, the last vision she had held such clarity, such vibrancy. It was going to happen. She just knew it.

As they approached her modest house in Malibu, they passed in front of what was publicly known as Tony Stark's residence. Her eyes steady on the building, Anja wondered just how strong that man was, were there an _occurrence _to happen. She felt an urge to kick somebody as she crossed her arms and reprimanded herself for being too scared and not being able to stand at those high standards he stood. She knew her ways around fighting, naturally, so much spare time she once had, but never could she compare herself to a metallic man who could fly.

Without Anja realizing, the van came to a halt. "Will you be okay by yourself, Anja?"

Licking her lips, she nodded and opened the door thanking him for everything, bags already being carried by the maid that took care of her house while she was away. That strange feeling of uncertainty and of something bad coming would not leave her.

It wasn't until a couple hours later, as she sat alone on the kitchen counter eating an apple and humming a soft tune, that her uneasiness truly became stronger. She felt a prominent sensation of being watched. It couldn't have been anyone, after all, her security system was probably only outranked by the Government's and by Stark's, but someone was there, or something, she could feel it. Though weary, she knew there was barely anything she could do at the moment, so she decided to breathe and smoke as she opened the counter's drawers with her feet, leaning down to take out a bottle of whatever she could find, case in which she found red wine.

After struggling a little bit to take out the bottle under her from the position she was in, she felt that stare grow even stronger. She dared to gulp before she looked up slowly, thinking on a strategy if anyone were to actually be there. A soft gasp left her lips as she felt her hands letting go of the bottle. Faster than her own gasp, she took the bottle back in her hands and looked up again without wasting time.

A pair of green eyes, she knew she had seen that. She might not be any goddess of Trickery, but she couldn't be fooled, by anyone. Holding close her own abilities, she looked around as the strange feeling left her. The creature was gone. What it had been, she did not know, but she figured she would be getting a call soon from the so called S.H.I.E.L.D. organization which had been pestering for a couple months now.

Deciding that as a precaution, she would rather get drunk at that time rather than when they _did _call, as if to not talk about those eyes with people she didn't trust, she turned her music loud and invited to her beach apartment as much people as she could fit in it without destroying it.

As she drank and danced, she wondered, had her mother –an insignificant goddess from Vanaheimr -foretold something that would start happening already? It just felt unlikely, usually foretelling of that sort especially coming from someone with minor traits such as her respected mother's could take centuries, seldom they took years.

"_Not months." _She thought.

Had she known just what was being planned for her, for her gifts, for the Earth.


	3. Chapter 2

_**Hurricane**_

_Chapter Two_

Living creatures, how enticing they can be, how creative, how forceful, how vengeful. Taking the time and having the dedication to understand the living is not an easy task; it is a complicated and delicate task. Feelings and assumptions are the common guides of these creatures, of all creatures. A lack of understanding and a lack of interest often create the chaos and the humiliation war brings. Why have these two for so long lingered around our decisions then? Why is it that we so very often fall right back into the vicious cycle of destroying what does not belong to us, just because we cannot have it? When will come the time when we have not to worry about someone disagreeing with you and having the short temper, the cold mind and the weak heart to start a destructive movement? Not only are we to worry about our own safety, we are to take into consideration that of every other _living creature_ regardless of if they are held close or not.

It is said that our soul can most easily have an opening through our eyes. An opening that allows someone to believe they can decipher us, though the success in that art is never to be truly found. Not even by someone who can see more than the outside, and can analyze through more than just a mere pair of eyes. For one who can see beneath all that, and venture deep inside our minds, this impossible task finds at least a few of its locks rudely broken.

Said gift was both a gift and an advantage as it was a curse and ability with the possibility of bringing more than just eternal despair. The god of Mischief knew this by heart. Not only had he fallen a prisoner entirely dependent of verifying lies were never addressed to him, but he only found the heartbreaking feeling of finding no satisfaction, no amusement after a while. Being able to read people, creatures, knowing what is to come, what is being planned; unless used for a certain motive, it was like hearing about a terrific book with an even more amazing ending and having someone tell you the end before you even start reading it. No opportunity to look forward to something, not even enough time to ponder on what might be the possible outcome. Knowing that as long as someone is thinking about it and has no ability to block you away deprived Loki of many surprises, of many delights, but also, of plenty of disappointments.

Like a soft blanket, rain covered the city of London, protecting it from anyone who would try to watch from above. Naturally, it was only one being the one that was notably annoyed by this fact: Heimdal, the gatekeeper of the realm of Asgard; and all he could think was '_what an incredibly troublesome boy the fallen prince is_'. Wondering nothing but if he was to bring pain to any other being, he dared look closer from above at the rather young male. Understanding he would only have a short period of time to do so before the tricky mastermind noticed his presence, the noble and loyal man observed quietly and with narrowed no signs of disturbance had been made during the past week the trickster had so far spent on Midgard, he could not keep calm nor let his guard down. He kept on wondering, how long until he realized?

But, of course, the prince Loki had known about the prying eyes long before he even began watching. He could've more than just imagined it coming. Regardless, he did not mind; he knew perfectly well not to act strangely. After all, he was just an unfortunate god trapped in an even more unfortunate place. Loki had other things to worry about, things much more – _attention worthy_: his plans, a slight inconvenient having affected them.

During his stay in the realm of the Vanir, not only had he received aid and sustenance, information being the piece he was the most grateful.

"_Is it true not even one – whether it may be a male or a female- with abilities worthy enough to be a part of Vanaheimr remains outside of these lands?" Taking slow, steady but long steps, Loki spoke as he walked around the bright court of the realm he had fallen to._

_Njördr, father of all the Vanir stared at him with a keen and perplexed look upon his face, "Are none of the talents we now hold of any use to you? What could bring you such a need for them to be long gone and lost?" _

_A sly smirk was missed by the powerful god as the younger god felt the oblivious and offended tone of Njördr, "My lord, that is not what I have implied. I merely see no use in forcing anyone into accompanying me in this quest I am on. I have met with the rest of the respected Vanir before and they seemed most uncomfortable with such idea. I thought that, perhaps, I would find someone more willing and with less ties to this realm. That way, the letting go will not be a problem at all."_

_Fist clenching and unclenching, lower lip being licked and bit, and a pair of eyes looking away from the pale figure, Njördr's voice could only be heard by Loki now seeing as how he notably lowered his volume and strength, "There is one, though not many know if she is still alive or not. Not even I am able to foretell if her existence has perished"_

_That dreaded smile, lately it seemed to always cover him._

* * *

Anja knew now more than ever that she could not hold on to stereotypes for too long. She just could not do it. She loved the fame, of course, after all, she had worked hard to get there, obviously desiring it, but she sometimes couldn't feel the pleasure it normally brought her. Maybe it was because of the alternate reasons her troubled eyes held, but of course, no one could know. Her red eyes were closed as she tried to focus on why she was there. To forget for just a few seconds, to think about anything but what was slowly killing her. Sitting on a bright blue puff, she placed her elbows on the coffee table right in front of her, laughter filling her ears along with the loud music on the background. She blinked with difficulty a couple times trying to look straight ahead and ignore all distractions. Her thin fingers took a hold of the object been handed to her by her dear friend Marjorie. A small previously transparent hitter was placed in front of her mouth. She smiled a bitter smile and decided she had to move on. Fire coming out of her blue lighter, she took a small drag of the green herb and passed it on.

There was about ten people in the room, going from the ages of eighteen and nineteen to the age of thirty-two –her other dear friend JK-. Most were either making a fool of themselves, singing or chilling while drinking some beer and eating some of the many chocolates Anja had taken. Some days she truly was okay, most of the days actually. Understanding completely that wallowing in self-pity would not get her anywhere, she truly was alright, with lingering memories, but alright. Then there came the times when all she could think about was about how much she needed to get away from everything and ignore it all; moments which resulted in uncontrollable traveling to remote places and dangerous exploring, drinking, smoking or getting high.

She felt disgusted at how she was handling things at times, others she felt like she had the full right to act that way. Either way, at that moment, she decided to let go, so she stood up and walked over to the people singing their lungs out at a rather modern song but not exactly _pop_.

"**This** is my song now, bitches, so move along!" She sang as she swayed her hips and moved her hands and shoulders as if truly feeling the song. Her lips pouting in a funny way, she laughed along with her friends. Indeed, as a singer, she was right where she belonged. The lack of feeling on her stomach made it a little more complicated than usual, seeing as how she couldn't normally regulate her diaphragm for her singing, regardless, she was happy. She felt like she was living.

_Night of the Hunter_. How she loved that song.

Finishing, she sat down next to the tiny Marjorie. She was a girl with bright auburn hair, a tiny nose, of a very short height, quite big breasts but tiny body, a very loud yet deep voice, and an amazing talent for drawing and painting. Working at her now husband's modest tattoo place, the very own tattoed girl had met Anja a couple years before. While Anja held close her sometimes flashy but always clean look, a part of her had always known –during her long years of living- that she would sooner or later brand her own skin with a symbolic drawing or phrase. As expected, her mother's birth date now adorned a tiny part of her right ankle and the German word _Seele_ which means soul designed on her left wrist.

"You with us? Or it hit you hard?" Marjorie's raspy voice called out to Anja. Naturally, she smiled. "Both, honey, I'm here, but my mind isn't, so-" she winked, "entertain me to keep me here." To this Marjorie let out a loud and sudden laugh and began filling her in with all the new gossip she could think about. After all, her friend had been gone for two good weeks, surely there was something to talk about.

As the night crept in, the previously hang out became an actual party, more people joining in, less drugs and more alcohol poured in. Soon a gathering of good friends transformed into one of people who Anja didn't know or had just seen a couple times. Anja's 'high' feeling wore off after a couple hours, but her drinking habits jumped right back to her.

Anja Evelynn Evans was a five foot two, twenty-five year old looking, girl with long chestnut rather curly hair and hazel –more brown than anything though- eyes and a pale olive skin tone. With quite wide hips and a small figure, the young woman was known to be an attractive female. Never having quite gotten over the adolescent self-consciousness, she was rather modest with her looks, regardless, years of experience had taught her that she was to gain nothing from that, and often used her 'captivating' techniques to lure people into doing her will.

A sometimes too honest, and direct, personality contrasted with her love for deceiving and amusing herself with things not entirely considered good for everyone. She did use people, she had used people, but she had learned enough about ethics to know when to stop, why to stop, and how to get away with it. She was smart, but no genius. She took pride only in knowing she made a useful use of her years to learn what now people considered her great achievements. If only they knew how she had acquired those.

Truly in a comfortable environment, regardless of being in presence of people she was unaware of, Anja found herself tearing her gaze apart from her buddies as she turned to look at the door. A laugh and a smile still lingering upon her, she spotted someone who made her heart stop in a very uncomfortable way. Her stomach churned, and turned as her smile turned into a frown.

"What the hell is he doing here?" She muttered as she grabbed onto her other friend Marcelo's arm. As the younger guy noticed the uncomfortable look on her face, she turned to follow her gaze. His protectiveness over his small friend reacting, he didn't need to think twice before standing up and making his way notably angry towards the other male. Right then, Anja noticed her mistake. Heavily affected by the effects of alcohol and the remnants of the marihuana, she stood up a bit too fast and felt her world move around her. Placing her hand on the counter next to her for support, she steadied herself before following the now loud talking taken outside.

Walking out of the loft, Anja found the two tall men arguing about why one had the right to stay and why the other should get going before something happened. Celo –pronounced cello- was quite the peaceful one as long as he didn't utterly hate the person. In this case, he more than despised the red head infront of him.

Anja struggled to make out what they were saying exactly, but she knew it would get rough, her beloved instincts telling her so and warning her. As the argument grew louder and neared a physical attack from either of them, she ran her hands through her hair and looked around. Most people had no idea about what was truly happening because of the loud music inside, and those that did, didn't want to intervene. There was just an insolent couple out there, not giving a damn about what was going on, worried only in calming their carnal desires.

The moment Anja's ex-boyfriend touched Celo, Anja's face had just turned from staring offended at the couple behind her. Celo's anger spiking, and his right fist about to collide with the redhead, Anja's extremely loud yell startled both of them. Her "No" caused the redhead Jason to stare directly into her eyes. Oh, had he known that was the doom for the night. His bright dyed hair covered his eyes as he got a hold of himself. His hand going up to cover his eyes, he found he was stunned, couldn't focus, not even one drink on him, and still, could find no strength to move from his prior position. His sudden "lost" state completely surprising Celo, the brave guy turned to look at Anja, both confused and questioning, he opened his mouth to ask if she had done something.

Sobering up because of using her tiring abilities, the girl shook her head and wasting no time began dragging him back inside. ''Grab your things if you have any and take my keys, you're driving me home.''

Deciding not to question her sudden forcefulness and determined eyes, he did as told and walked next to the girl as she bid her friends goodbye. Waving strangely at Marjorie, Celo couldn't manage to tear her gaze from Anja afterwards. It was not until they were inside her car and almost at her place that he dared ask, ''What did you do?''

Silence greeted him as her reply, ''Ann, why did he look as if he had just seen a ghost or somthin'?''

She never did reply, dizziness and tiredness taking over her, she simple shrugged even as he wasn't watching her and opted for sleep, knowing that he could just carry her inside, take her car, go home and bring it back during the morning.

As he followed her expectations, he only kept asking himself one thing out loud in the solitude of his way back home, ''Why did he even go there? I don't get it.''

But of course, from the shadows of invisibility, the same green eyes that had once surprised Anja glittered. Loki snickered. He knew exactly why that hated and not accepted man had dropped by to visit a bunch of people who detested him. He knew exactly why.

'_It appears that I truly neglected her abilities._'

So enticingly amusing he found the figure in front of him. Sleeping so peacefully, yet, weakness and uneasiness covering her like white snow covered bright blood -never a permanent cover-. Once again inside the house, the god of Mischief opted from prying a little bit more into her life. While he had visited before, he had not taken the time to gather information directly from her closest surroundings. Again, not been the one he had been looking for, she had not been held as his upmost priority.

He had been secretly informed of the possible existence of a woman on the realm of Midgard who once possessed the ability to foretell the future and at times manifest energy as objects, the latter a basic knowledge of any sorcerer. He understood why she had failed at perfecting said ability though. A former lover of Njördr's, she was banished from the realm of Vanaheimr as she foretold something unpleasant for her kind. The death of an extremely esteemed sorceress, who often fought with her over their lover, had been the cause of her exile. The mighty Njördr felt pained as he was forced to do so, mainly so because only the pair knew about the existence of a new life created between them. The young Anja, daughter of a powerful creature and a beautiful yet truly common woman; that's who Loki found a need of now. Having learned about the death of the woman addressed as Myrthala –ironically a Greek name in the human world- frustration had taken over him, but corrupting minds and walking elegantly deeper into the secret identity of the out casted 'oracle', Loki found about the existence of a baby girl.

He had not expected her looks to be such as hers. She was meant to be much younger, considering the immortality she was sure to have. He was certain that she was no older than two hundred years, the human equivalent for looking of roughly twelve years old. He was naturally aware of the fact that the older these immortals grew, the more it took for them to visibly look older. Yet, she looked just some human years younger than him. Indeed, that fed his curiosity even more.

She had seemed quite lost, a perfect feeling he could toy with. But he was not to forget that she also held even if just a small ability to use humanity's greatest weakness: their feelings. Such fragile beings they were, at least, Loki truly looked down upon them because of that.

As a cold long finger was placed on Anja's bare forehead, she flinched and grunted. Loki smirked; she could feel his powers intruding. Of course, with how prominent they were, even someone with the faintest ability to perceive energy would be able to feel him rooms away. Her abilities weren't developed. He could only guess her mother had not taken the proper care of her as she obviously had not taught her half what she could have; either that or she had refused.

'_So, she is aware of her abilities. Interesting. Anja, daughter of Njördr the God of the Vanir, you shall be of great use. Now, how should I win you over? Shall I force you to oblige, control your every sense?' _Prying into her mind in the most rude and crude way he could, he pressed his finger a little bit harder, only to see her squirm under his touch. Creating not only feelings of uneasiness, but also of pain, he saw through every bit of her life, every single moment left out of conversations, every single torment she had ran away from.

He smirked as he felt the information being absorbed and entirely stashed into that great mind of his. He could have fun too, could he not? Was there going to be someone who would interrupt? Unlikely. Feeling out of character and quite impudent, his other hand reached the hem of her black sleeve-less, button-up shirt. Feeling the soft fabric graze him, he unbuttoned the two buttons at the top and allowed his eyes to travel around her chest. Her brassiere was a deep blue that could match the night sky, two soft mountains looming.

'_Ah, I see. So as my own physical desires arise, I come up with the answer to my very own question._' His smirk widened even more. Turning away from his prior savage actions, he focused on a new type of game to play inside her mind. As her uncomfortable and painful squirming came to an end, a sudden gasp of pleasure was heard. Soon enough, it was all that could be heard. Slow gasps, both out of confusion her mind felt and out of the pleasure it was been infected with; both amused the god. Taking absolutely no sexual contentment and only pure cynical and –recently discovered- sadistic bliss from his actions, Loki smirked as he chose to play with the girl's mind at the fullest.

'_It will be when you can no longer live away from my presence without feeling forlorn and desperate, as though life is spiraling away from you that I will have you coexist in my new world, as a required helper._'

It would be perfect, unlike his plans as of lately had been.

* * *

She awoke startled and restless, sitting up as fast as physics would allow her to, and immediately regretting her actions as she felt a strong pain on her head and at the pit of her stomach. Her eyes closed tightly, her hand rubbing the right one; she yawned and proceeded to take a look around. The sudden symptoms of a hangover settling in, she began noticing her surroundings. Something was off, she could feel it. Taking in a harsh breath through her nose, she tried to ignore it, neglecting her 'gifts' as her mother used to call them. Whatever that was making her feel goose bumps, was to be ignored. She did not want more incidents like the one from the night before. Half thankful and half regretting her good memory she let out a soft sigh and stood up from the bed as steadily as she could.

As much as she had once loved her ability to toy with people, the way she was left so exhausted because of the lack of practice made her extremely upset and at times even made her feel unaccomplished.

Walking over to her bedroom's window, she moved the blinds and glanced down, her car wasn't there yet. Without moving her body, her eyes wandered over to her large digital clock with huge light blue numbers and she frowned. What was she doing up at eight am feeling like this? Wanting to go back to sleep but feeling an urge to shower and wash away invisible dirt and her very own uneasiness, she yawned once again and made her way towards her kitchen. Spotting a pack of cigarettes on her counter, she made a stop to look for a lighter and an ashtray. As she lit her cigarette she took in her surroundings. Something was off and it made her want to get out of her house.

That feeling truly reminded her of when she was younger and used to think ghosts were all over the house, while it was actually just the 'memories' her mother would see as situations that would happen and then spiritually discarded. A clear picture of her mother sitting down on the dining room, with papers of her work in front of her, a ridiculously big glass filled with water and a long cigarette lingering on her mouth came into her mind.

She remembered how Myrthala used to have her eyes closed as she took breaks before continuing on her paperwork and she would wave her hands around softly, as if dismissing visions she had no need of. Between the smoke of her trademark cigarette and the soft humming of her mother's, Anja truly felt like she was some spiritual monk –never actually believing it of course-.

Grunting, Anja felt her phone, still in her pants' pocket, vibrate and a loud song hurt her sensible ears. Rubbing her eyes and placing her cig on the ashtray, she took out her phone and stared at the screen, "_Celo". _

"Hey, what's up?" she sat on the counter.

"Really?" he sighed, "I'm driving over to your place in 'bout an hour, we're going out to hang out, m'right?" Anja couldn't help but let a smile crawl up her face. He truly cared about her. Letting her cigarette finish, she yawned and spoke for a few more minutes with her friend, agreeing to meet right after she was done getting ready.

Hanging up, she walked back into her room. Opening the door to her walk-in closet slash bathroom, she threw around her clothes and noticed certain dirtiness she did not expect, then again, she had no idea as for what had happened as she was sleeping. Grabbing a clean set of clothes, she opened the cabinet in her bathroom and took out some pills. She showered and then left as Celo arrived.

A tall figure following from afar, she got sat on the driver's seat as Celo scooted over. Very soon, the god and the half-oblivious were to properly meet, face to face, deceiver against deceiver.

* * *

_A/N: I am so sorry if there are any grammatic or spelling mistakes, I swear that as soon as I get some sleep, study for my last test and drink some coffee, I'll read everything again and fixed and blemishes. Anyways, I'll give a quick explanation. I am going to play a little bit with Loki's wild, angry side, but he won't be always sadistic and evil, so don't worry, haha. If there are things that make no sense, I dare blame the fact that english is not my frist language, haha! Thank you for all those who are on the "alert" list, it genuenly inspired me to actually write something and not leave this story dying like I have done with most. Thank you!_


	4. Chapter 3

**_Hurricane_**

_Chapter Three_

A headache, such a strong headache was taking over her every thought as she sat in front of businessmen talking. She had been called in to a meeting with the directors of the company she 'worked for'. As both a singer and an actress, Anja was forced to attend every now and then the meetings the recording company that was recently producing her music. A bored, almost annoyed look made a couple of the men both nervous and exasperated. Did she have the attitude to work with people? Once, she was sure she did; not anymore. Talk about how she should dress and how she should be behaving was going around. Surprisingly, the people in the room actually found her partying and care-less behavior quite helpful for her growing popularity. Anja licked her lips and shifted back and forth between disgusted and bothered looks.

Of course, while she was needed there, she was never really needed to talk. As the men spoke back and forth with each other about the future of the girl, without caring about what she thought about it, not even giving a damn about if it made her uncomfortable or if it would harm her, a cynic laugh was heard. She had meant to let out a soft chuckle, but it turned out to be cold laughter the one that left her lips.

"So, let me see if I get this straight. You people actually want me to get drunk more, smoke more, party more, put on a badass attitude, and _still _be considered nice and cute?" As she had been almost in a laying position on the black leather chair, she regained her posture and got closer to the table, setting her arms upon it. "People are not that stupid. If I suddenly come up and act like I'm an angel during the day, on interviews, on every fucking show you're making me attend, and then I act all fucked up at night, do you _honestly_, honestly, think that they will buy that I'm a good girl and want to be just like me? Do you really think that parents will want to buy their kids some of the merchandise?" She had a cold look upon her face; that she did.

Standing up, scratching her head with a disbelieving look on her face, she shook her head, and bit her lower lip anxiously. "All people know about me, is that I can sing, I can act, and I live a fucked up life, just like any other super star that winds up dead. All those kids that just want to look cool, feel like they don't fit and shit, just like most teenagers, are most likely going to try and act just like me." Oliver was standing on a corner right behind her, watching the scene amused, even if just a little bit proud because she seemed to be getting somewhere good, just like she used to.

"I told you. I made it very clear to you when I first signed why it is I do this, why it is I actually love doing this, singing, performing, whatever you wanna call it. Sure, I smoke, sure, I get drunk, and sure I fuck up, but you people know why! So stop acting like you make some profit out of my current shitty life. This is not about this." Anja said, her voice going up with each word.

Walking around the room, truly angered, she stopped to once again look at the greedy men. Speaking a little bit softer and with less volume, she spoke looking directly at the head's eyes across the room, "When I signed with you, you promised you would respect my values, and respect my wishes. I told you I do this to bring some good to people. I told you I want to make a good example of myself. Believe it or not, I do work on not letting my shit go out in public, and still, you all decide to not give a damn about my desires and you work on getting more and more interviews that force me to talk about the bad things I do, specifically. You try to get more publicity about how much I party, about how many addictions I have. Do you realize you're just fomenting the use of alcohol, smoking habits, and just, plain dirt?"

Aaron, the head of the company, stared passively at the girl. "Do **you** realize that you are the one doing all this things? And causing the talk? Tell me Miss Evans, why don't you spare us all of having to make up dramatic stories that will bring your fame up and bring us more money? People wonder why you're suddenly so different, why you're not giving any concerts, why you're just doing small presentations in small places that bring us almost **no money**." Now, the tall man with slick brown hair was the one ready to yell. From across the table, the short girl stood as tall as she was physically allowed to, but with her steady attitude intact. "You are the one partying all over the world, getting intoxicated and whoring yourself. You are the one refusing to see those 'adored' and 'oh, they are so lovely' fans of yours. You, Miss Evans, are costing us a lot of money. All this publicity you're talking about, that's the only thing that keeps talk going on, that keeps the interest alive, and that brings – us – money." Standing up with the force of his words, Aaron Schwien walked around the table, elegance showing, arrogance shining, Letting his right hand grace the top of each member's chair as he passed, he walked up to Anja and stared down at her.

"You complain, all the time, about how we're the bad guys, taking advantage of you, not respecting you. But, sweet child of hell, you're the one not respecting the contract. That mother of yours is gone, face it, move on, stop being a coward hiding under behind your drugs, or you'll end up having a whole lot of amazing lessons to teach to your faithful students. You'll be able to teach them how to fail at life by becoming a drug addict, and alcoholic, and a whore. Of course you want girls aiming to become you, why then do you not like that we promote what you do? You do everything right, don't you? A perfect bitch you are."

Oh, if only Loki's smirk could be seen. The anger, the dark feelings, the humiliation, the almost desire for blood, it was so enticing, so lovely to look into her eyes from afar. How much had the vain man angered her? How astonishing would her next act be? Having followed her for a couple days now with no second spared, the amusement and interest within him could only grow as he analyzed the strong anger she felt when rather uneventful events displeased her. He had seen how even with small things fire flashed through her eyes. An almost blue almost too thin to be seen flash of energy was surrounding her, of course, only the god could see it. Only he could know what the extent of her power was, and only he was out trying to discover it.

To his dismay, the intense weight that had been lingering and growing on the air and upon the businessmen suddenly banished, leaving only that uncomfortable one of said males. His smirked disappeared, a light frown taking its place. He tilted his head to one side and once again smirked. '_You used your own abilities on yourself? How chary you are to let people know about who you really are._'

She didn't look offended; she did not even look upset. She leaned down to pick up her bag, took her phone from the table, smiled at the people in the room both confusing and scaring them, and walked away leaving the door opened for Oliver to follow behind, as usual, confused, stressed, and half-proud and half-disappointed. She knew how to act, that she did, but when such feelings were taking over her, and when she was in the state she was, she knew best than to rely on her acting and lying skills.

With the god of Mischief trailing behind her, she strolled with a satisfied look upon her face. She had, indeed, wished dead upon them, thought which angered her more than the words uttered. Blocking away the voice of the man she had grown to detest, she focused solely on the mantra inside her head, floating away, leaving behind all feelings she did not want. Like many times, she had literally lost herself in thought.

"Your food looks good… How about you actually eat it?" Celo's frown had become more noticeable as the day went by, witnessing more and more bad habits from the girl he cared so much about. The scene was quite pleasant for Anja and for anyone who might be walking by. Sitting on the wooden chairs on the terrace of a busy Starbucks, a cigarette between her fingers, food getting cold right in front of her; Anja put her sunglasses on after glaring at some people taking photos of her.

."Already had half of it, I'm pretty full." Celo rolled his eyes and let out a soft sigh as he listened to his good friend.

"Whatever, girl. Finish it so we can go drop you off, got a date today." Anja smirked at his words and gave him a teasing laugh, earning nothing but another rolling of eyes, a short laugh and a smile from her friend.

Taking another bite from her truly tasty food, she stood up, took her bag from the chair next to her and her phone from the table and began walking without waiting for Celo, only stopping as she got to the stairs to look back at him and wait for him to get to her side. Having parked the car outside the open mall they were in, they found themselves walking between crowds and with them to get to the other side of the place. Half way through, Anja let Celo know she wasn't going back home just yet, letting him go back to his car while she went look at some stores.

It was then that she felt something unusual surround her. It was only four in the afternoon, sun still up, brightness everywhere; only the shadows created by the buildings around her covered the people walking around. Getting tired of the sun, and starting to feel a bit of sweat come down, she ventured herself in one of the many alleys that connected the stores. Sitting on a bench there, glad there was barely anyone walking around there, she took out another cigarette and put it between her lips as she rummaged through her bag trying to find her lighter.

"Damn it." She muttered, still searching.

"May I?" A voice on her left startled her as fire was suddenly right in front of her face. Lips still holding a cigarette, she half smiled and chuckled, leaning in and holding the cigarette with her right hand. She let out a small cloud of smoke to the other side, so it would not get in this stranger's face.

"Thank you, I swear I need to start putting a GPS on it or something." She laughed.

Oh, how delicate, how unguarded she finally was. Offering a gallant and soft smile, he made a gesture towards the spot right next to her and courtly said, "May I?" She was finally alone out in public, allowing him to start his strategy to win her over, allowing her to be approached by a stranger and for it to seem completely normal, flirtatious even –he hoped-.

A small smile and a knowing soft chuckle was her answer, "Naturally."

She had taken her time to analyze the man whose intentions she was pretty sure she knew of. Tall, pale, black hair slicked back, light colored eyes, black sweater, black jeans, black boots, and a black and green scarf loosely wrapped around his neck. Her first thoughts were that he looked like a rich, typically dark and mysterious manwhore. '_This might be fun_'

Her laugh echoed around the room, "Alright then, are you finally going to tell me your name? Or we're still in this guessing game thing?" Taking a sip from her drink, and setting her cigarette on the ashtray the waiter had just put on her table, she sat straighter and leaned in on the table, resting her face on her left hand, looking straight at his eyes.

He smirked once again and finally said, "Alright, my name is Loki."

"Mh, nice name, hun. My name's Anja, and to answer your question, yes, I'm more than twenty-one quite obviously. You?"

"I am twenty-seven." She wasn't sure just what was about him that was making him so intriguing, but she could feel her breath become heavier as the next two hours went by. She wasn't exactly worried; if anything went bad, she knew she could fight him off in a second, there was something else about him though, something more inexplicable that caught her attention. With her unnatural senses, she could feel something different about him, but she couldn't feel anything extremely weird about it, perhaps she should just not worry about it. Maybe.

"For real? I live just around the block from you." She sure was tipsy already, maybe more than that, feeling a strong urge to add some illicit fun, she wondered if it would be alright to add some extra fun to the night. What if he did something though? Nah, not likely.

"Tell you what, I'll go use the restroom and then we can sorta carpool the way back, what do you think, English man?" A sly smirk was now for her to show, if only she knew.

"I have to say that I find your plan perfect" How formal he was, she liked that.

In the end, her survival sense turned the fire burning inside of her off and she opted for no extacy during that night.

It was a short walk to the entrance where many cabs were parked; the ride back though was much longer. It began with an overly active and happy short girl laughing and resting on a mysterious man's shoulder and ended up with a long pale hand touching her hair and caressing her cheek. She looked up at him, dazed eyes and awaiting smile. She was shocked, as hi smirked and leaned down, how nervous she felt, how extremely needy she felt and how she felt herself shake a little just before his lips brushed hers.

He was so easily winning her over.


End file.
